Shots pinged off the back glass. Lark ducked low, pulling Kawan with her, his blood smearing the seat.
“You’re hit worse than you’re letting on,” she said, gripping his thigh to stop the bleeding.
He hissed. “Keep doing that, and I’ll bleed on your paperwork.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
Another impact rocked the car—rear quarter panel dented by gunfire.
“Two bikes tailing,” Moose warned. “Inbound, fast.”
“Watch this,” Sloan said, yanking the wheel. The SUV fishtailed, swerved through a tight alley, clipped a crate of oranges, then burst onto the main road leading to the hangar.
“There!” Specs shouted over comms. “The bird’s on deck. Sixty seconds.”
Gunfire cracked from the motorcycles.
Lark grabbed the sidearm from Kawan’s belt, tapped the controls for the window, braced, and took aim.
Two shots. Two hits.
The bikes went down in a tangle of smoke and metal.
“Jesus, that was… nice fucking shot,” Moose said.
“Even I’m impressed,” Kawan said through gritted teeth.
“It’s not like any of you couldn’t have done that.” She sighed as she rebolstered Kawan’s weapon.
They skidded to a stop a few miles out of town and not far from the hangar just as the blades of the Black Hawk spun into full roar.
Thor leapt out, waving to the pilot. “Load them. Go.” He gave the whirlybird sign.
Moose and Sloan hauled Kawan out. Lark staggered alongside, refusing help until she was sure everyone else was clear.
Specs jumped aboard, fingers flying over a tablet as she talked into a headset.
As the helicopter lifted, Kawan slumped against the metal wall, blood seeping through his pants.
Moose tore off his shirt, ripped it, and tied off Kawan’s leg mid-thigh, before taking a pair of scissors and cutting into Kawan’s pants. “Looks like the bullet went clean through.” Moose took gauze and pressed it on both sides of Kawan’s leg.
He groaned.
Lark dropped beside Kawan, breathing hard, face smudged with soot.
She didn’t speak. Just reached out and threaded her fingers through his.
“Your orders were to find the AI software,” she whispered.
“I don’t take orders from you,” he said, voice hoarse. “Besides... you always did like it when I bled for you.”
4
MILITARY HOSPITAL, SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS
Lark rubbed her good hand against her thigh, fingers itching to roll that stress ball between them. Damn thing had become her lifeline.
